A girl wanted more
by AngelFire2021
Summary: Arya and Sandor smut one shot with the kind of bad language you would expect from Mr Clegane. As usual I do not own these characters they belong to Mr Martin. After her first time with Gendry, Arya lay awake, contemplating the battle ahead and what she had just experienced. Was it to be her only time? Was there more she could experience? Arya Stark thought about the Hound. Was


"You back again?" the Hound took yet another slug from his wineskin. Beric had left him after fetching another pile of skins for the Sandor to get through.

"Still can't sleep," Arya hunkered down on the wall opposite him. There was snow on the patch of the floor she chose, and the wall was cold through her tunic, but she shrugged it off. "Thought you'd still be awake." She pointed to the wineskins. "Any spare."

The Hound grunted and tossed a half-full one over. He hadn't liked the taste of that particular vintage very much.

Arya took a long drink and feeling the warmth hit her stomach. The feeling of tenderness inside was already fading with each mouthful, but the intense sensation of pleasure remained. "Where's Beric?"

"Gone to fucking sleep like you and I should be."

They both sat sipping on wine as light snow continued to dust their clothes. Swirls would accumulate in the gloomy corners until a gust chased them away.

Gendry was asleep. She'd left him snoring, which was precisely what he'd been doing the moment she'd rolled off him. After lying next to him for a while, Arya had decided she needed air and a drink. She still recalled the shocked look on his face when she demanded sex. He seemed almost powerless to resist, and Arya had lain awake thinking about how it had nearly been as powerful as a feeling as control as knowing she could choose whether someone lived or died.

He was almost an obedient puppy dog by the end.

"What's that on your fucking face?" The Hound nodded towards Arya.

"What do you mean?" Arya wiped her face thinking she must have wine or drool on her chin

"That fucking smile. Not seeing one of those since we got here."

"None of your fucking business." Arya couldn't help but broaden her smile as she spoke.

"You find him then?"

"Who?" She tried to give him an innocent look.

"You know who I fucking mean." The Hound shook his head, thinking he really should stop drinking if he wanted to have a remote chance of a clear mind when the battle came. But then again, he didn't expect to have to think much about his actions. The undead would charge at them, and he would swing his sword until either they were all dead, or he was. "That blacksmith."

"He made me a new weapon."

"Slipped you his fucking weapon more like." Sandor guffawed and saw Arya didn't stop smiling at the notion. "Likely he has. Maybe you're not such a cold bitch after all." He raised his wineskin to her and took another drink.

"Just wanted to know what it was like. Just in case. Well, you know." Arya took a sip and lay her head back against the wall, looking up at the stars. "I mean you men going on about it all the time as if it's the best thing ever."

"Was that the best experience of your cunting life."

"Not really."

"Then you went to the wrong man." The hound roared drank again. He found it surprising he could find something funny waiting on the freezing battlements for death to take him. "Probably never done it before."

"He said he'd been with others." Arya frowned. "Lots of them."

"They all say that. Because they don't want to look like fucking cunts on the first night. Should've got yourself a real man. A man who knows how to use his weapon." Sandor tapped the scabbard his blade resting on the battlements beside him.

"What like you?"

The Hound spluttered his wine over the front of his gambeson. There was a sly look on Arya's face.

"You get with a lot of women looking like that." She pointed to the side of his head.

He glared at her. "Fuck you girl. I've had enough screaming bitches to last me a fucking lifetime."

"Any you didn't have to pay for?" Arya winced at her words, but she wasn't going to let him taunt her without getting some hits back. Even if some of it was below the belt.

"Who is the cunt now." The hound raised his wineskin in salute. "Your first fuck is giving you a big mouth. Pity his cocks not still in their shutting you up."

Arya was glad it was dark enough for him not to see she'd gone red.

"Or did you not get around to trying that out before you die."

"He fell asleep." She mumbled.

Sandor laughed so hard his side hurt and felt good to let go. Maybe the White Walkers would hear him know Sandor Clegane wasn't afraid to die. As his laughter subsided and he watched the girl, he couldn't resist thinking about what it would be like with Arya's mouth around the tip of his cock and her hands gripping his shaft.

She was right about his conquests. They had all been bought and paid for in the main. And if they haven't been whores in his younger days, they were women he hadn't asked permission off following the heat of the battle. One of the many parts of his old life he didn't like to dwell on.

He took another drink and wondered how many undead he would have to kill to redeem his evil acts.

"Do you think we'll get another chance?" Arya said thoughtfully as she ran her fingers around the spout of her wineskin.

"What to suck cock? Not something I am planning on fucking doing either way."

Arya snorted with laughter. "You know what I mean?"

"It depends what the fucking gods have in store." The Hound said. "At least they let you have one night of fun before they piss on us with the cunting undead." He spat on the floor.

"What about you? Didn't you want a last night of living? I heard them in the hall, drinking and laughing. Podrick was even singing."

"Fucking sing." The Hound spat again. "Soft cunts." He didn't despise them for wanting to be together or trying to do what they could to distract that themselves from the horror to come. But they didn't want somebody like him and his fucked-up face reminding them how fucking brutal combat really was.

"Or fucking for that matter," Arya said. "One last fuck before you face the wave of the undead."

"I think the whores were sensible enough to fuck off a long time ago." Not that Sandor had a lot of time for them. It was always a gamble to see if they would be able to take him to their beds without wincing at his face when he scowled over them. More than once, he'd walked away, leaving his coin. A woman wincing below you when she caught a glimpse of your face was a real passion killer.

Arya dropped her wineskin on the floor. The beverage tasted like shit, and her head was fuzzy enough. Sandor was still staring at her, though with a glazed look in his eyes, and wet hair straggled around his disfigured face gave him the look of a wild beast. Whereas Gendry had been continually making sure she was alright, and he wasn't hurting her, Arya imagined the Hound wouldn't give a shit. She'd seen whores on their knees looking up and their customers as they pleasured them. Arya doubted any of them ever looked up the Hound. Fear swept through her body; it took a few moments to control. The pall of death hanging over them all. If she was going to die Arya needed more.

"I want to know what it's like," despite its bitter taste Arya picked up the wineskin again and drained the final dregs. The Hound watched with a quizzical face. "I want to know what it's like have a cock in my mouth. I want to know what it's like to be bent over the battlements and be taken from behind. Fucked in the very place, we'll be fighting for our lives tomorrow." She pointed the wineskin toward Sandor before tossing aside. "I want you to have a fucking taste before we face certain death. And you don't even have to pay for it."

Halfway through her words, the Hound had already started choking on his drink and seeing the intense stare Arya was giving him knew she meant every word. Any possible doubt evaporated like snow being covered in hot piss when Arya undid the buttons on her tunic before pulling it apart to reveal her full, well-rounded breasts. Sandor couldn't help but watch delicate flakes of snow land on her erect nipples. There was an incredible urge to lean forward and lick those flakes off her breasts before they could melt.

Arya rose from her position on the edge of the wall seemingly oblivious to the cold wind, despite its visible effect on her body, and she shuffled across the battlement on her knees until she was in front of the Hound. Mesmerised by both the movement of Arya's firm breasts with their succulent red nipple, and by the way, the snow landed gently on her pale skin, Sandor couldn't resist letting go of his wineskin and taking hold of one of her naked tits.

Arya gave a little moan at his touch. While she wasn't exactly sure what had come over her, she wanted to experience more, and the idea of doing it overlooking her home with a man often reviled by the people gave her a tingling body an extra thrill.

The Hound found it hard to believe the waif-like figure he'd plucked from danger so many times, and who'd robbed him and left him for dead, had turned into such a voluptuous beauty. Leaning forward his back cracked as old bones, stiff in the cold, strained and resisted. His damp, unkempt hair dangled around the sides of his face and for once he didn't care how disgusting someone might find him to look at.

A lovely young woman, who could as easily slit his throat as let him suck her tits, was knelt inviting him onto her body. Spasms of pleasure rattled through Sandor's limbs as his mouth covered one of her breasts and his tongue danced over the nipple, feeling the cold flakes of snow just as they melted away to nothing.

His half-drunken body urged him to tear the rest of her clothes off. It was an unbridled desire often only matched by the blood lust he felt in battle. One of her hands reached up to his face was a moment before he realised her small fingers were caressing the terrible scar on his face which had horrified girls and women for years. Arya's fingers danced over the injury without a care. He felt her other hand on the outside of his gambeson moving closer and closer to the top of his breeches, while he hungrily sucked her breasts. His hands squeezed them and plucked her nipples as they felt the most magnificent thing he'd ever touched in the world.

Her hand reached the top of his trousers and tore at the fastenings as he spread his legs, allowing her to come in closer to him on her knees. Another incredible shudder passed in a wave over his body as Arya's hand reached inside trousers and grasped his manhood.

He groaned again, taking one of his hands off her breasts to push the trousers down over his buttocks. Sandor ignored the freezing snow his bare bottom became exposed to on the battlements. The shivers racking his body were as much about the excitement as the freezing night. There was a howl of a wolf in the night from outside the walls, and the hounds inside the castle walls began their own chorus.

Was the enemy approaching? Was death approaching? It was moments before Sandor Clegane was sure he was going to die, and he felt more alive than ever.

With his trousers down to his knees, the Hound pushed himself to his feet and leaned against the battlements with his cock exposed to the cold wind that rattled through. He reached out and guided Arya's head towards his manhood, feeling her damp soft hair. She looked up at him, deep brown eyes almost fearful as the tip of his cock touched her lips.

"You don't have to do this." The Hound wasn't sure where such a noble phrase had sprung forth from. Perhaps there was still an innocence about the girl that made him almost respectful. With all the bad things he'd done in his life Sandor didn't want to add to it moments before he died

"I want to." Arya then opened a mouth to take his cock before her hand moved onto the shaft. His own hand wrapped around hers, encouraging her to smoothly move up and down and once more the pleasurable groan ripped from his lips. A primal urge commanded him to pull her as far onto his cock as she could take though knowing it would almost certainly choke her. Any crumb of gentlemanly behaviour fled from his thoughts as the beast inside him gorged itself on animalistic pleasure.

He let out a long moan trying getting control of himself. "If you really do want to do it over the fucking walls of your castle, we better do it now before you make me explode in your mouth."

At that moment the clumsy wording broke the spell as Arya broke into laughter and almost choked on his cock moment before she was able to pull away. The Hounds started grinning like a kid, and it felt strange on his face. For one of the first times in his life, he felt like roaring out with genuine laughter.

Arya climbed to her feet before for the second time that night dropping her cloth breaches in front of a man. She imagined if any of her family knew what she had done tonight, they would have been horrified, but Arya didn't care. Soon the enemy would be upon Winterfell tonight she was becoming a woman capable of bringing as much pleasure to the world of men as death during her final hours.

"Do you have a preferred crenel." Arya pointed at the walls facing outwards.

"Just get your arse over there cold bitch." Sandor's words elicited another giggle from Arya before she shrugged off her tunic and stepped up to one of the gaps in the wall where a soldier would soon be stood with shaking hands while the undead horde tried to scale the ramparts. The cold rippled across her skin as she leant on the bare stone, her breasts pushing the snow aside. Grabbing onto the outside wall, her head and shoulders protruded over the edge. Looking down, Arya saw Winterfell's central courtyard where guards mingled with soldiers unable to sleep and looked for a little warmth from the braziers.

If any of them looked up, Arya wondered if they'd see her. It added an extra level of excitement as she felt her naked backside grabbed by the Hound. Holding her breath, she tensed, expecting him to roughly enter her. But it was Sandor's fingers probing between her legs first, as though he was testing if she could take him.

It was her turn to give a loud moan, and for a moment she was sure they'd be able to hear her in the courtyard below. Sandor's fingers danced inside her and Arya felt a deep sensation of heat and lust spreading between her legs, which left her gasping. She was still reeling at the wetness of her sex when there came the now unmistakable feeling of a man's cock being thrust inside her.

The Hound gave a guttural roar as he entered her. All thoughts of gentleness cast aside as his animal instinct urged him to thrust until his balls smashed against her cunt. He drove deep and hard into the female assassin as his primal urges completely took over. His own grounds and grunts mingled with her gasps and moans as Arya clung on to the outside of the battlements filled with incredible joy for life as both their bodies gorged themselves in the lust of the animalistic rutting.

Looking out across the low walls and into the distance, Arya saw something on the horizon a great sense of trepidation mingled with her sexual ecstasy

As she realised that the army of the dead was on the horizon, she felt the throbbing of the Hound's cock moments before the warmth of his ejaculation filled.

"Just in fucking time," Sandor was still inside her as he saw the army of the dead.

"If we both survive," Arya groaned, "I want you to do that again." The Hound chuckled as he stepped back and lifted Arya off the wall before retrieving her tunic from the floor. "You have to kill the fucking Night King first."


End file.
